


Sammy's The Best Medicine

by justspn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12 year old Dean, Caring John Winchester, Gen, Learning Lessons, Preseries, Responsibility, Sick Dean Winchester, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 00:05:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4457678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justspn/pseuds/justspn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John brings Dean on a hunt to teach him a few lessons about responsibility and when to give up on a hunt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sammy's The Best Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh, sorry I haven't posted in so long. I've been super busy with work and summer AP homework. Ugh. Anyway, I hope you like this. There's a little bit of fluff but not an overload. I was feeling needy Dean, so that's what I did. Feeling kind of needy myself, so I had to fill the hole somehow.

"Why does Sammy have to stay with Uncle Bobby?" Dean asked. Dean and John were in the Impala driving through the night to reach Gloria, Wyoming before sunrise. 

"Because he's not old enough for this hunt and I don't want him to get hurt, or to get us hurt." John answered. He rubbed his face tiredly. He looked over at Dean. It still surprised him how much Dean looked like his mother, especially as he grew older. "You okay?" John asked. Dean's color seemed a little off. Dean just nodded and continued to gaze out the window. 

"What are we hunting?" Dean asked. John reached up and turned the radio off so he could hear Dean's quiet voice. 

"Bobby and I think it's a vengeful spirit but the evidence makes it hard to know fully until we get there. That's why I left Sam with Bobby. I don't know how dangerous it will be." John said. Dean nodded and rubbed at his eyes. "If you're tired you can crawl into the back and take a nap." John suggested. Something about Dean was off, but John couldn't quite put his finger on what it was that was wrong. 

Dean crawled over the front seat and landed on the back seat with a thud. He pulled the blanket up off the floor and curled up under it, closing his eyes immediately. He heard John turn the radio back on and lower the volume so Dean could sleep. Dean's temples pounded with his heartbeat and his chest felt tight. He figured it would go away with sleep, so that's what he did. 

XXXXX

John pulled up outside a motel just outside of the Wyoming boarder and parked the Impala. It was only 2am, but John couldn't drive any longer. He was exhausted and could tell Dean wasn't sleeping well. He got out of the car quietly and checked into a room in the office. Back at the Impala he opened the back door and leaned down, shaking Dean's shoulder gently. 

"Dean, wake up." 

Dean sat up, automatically opening his eyes even though they felt glued shut. 

"Let's go inside and go to bed, okay?" John said. Dean nodded and got out of the Impala. The world tipped on its side as a wave of dizziness crashed over him. John grabbed Dean by his shoulders to keep him upright. "Hey, hey, you okay?" John asked, leaving his hands on Dean's shoulders to steady him on his feet.

"Yeah, just tired." Dean answered. John frowned and let go of Dean, watching him as he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. John grabbed his own bag and led the way to their room. He unlocked the door and let Dean go in ahead of him. He saw how Dean didn't even look around before heading straight to his bed. Something was definitely wrong with Dean. 

Dean dropped his bag on the floor and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He leaned on the counter and closed his eyes. His stomach was rolling and he could feel sweat dripping down the back of his neck. He splashed cold water on his face and took a deep breath. 

John was laying down a salt line when he heard Dean come out of the bathroom. John turned around and was surprised at the sight of Dean. His face was a pale green and John could see the goosebumps popping up on his skin as he took his shirt off.

"What?" Dean asked. John was staring at him.

"What's wrong?" John asked. He palmed Dean's forehead. He didn't feel too warm. 

"Nothing. Just tired." Dean answered.

"You're not lying, are you?" John asked sternly. If Dean was coming down with something there was no point dragging him on a hunt. John needed to be sure that Dean would have his back if they got into a pickle. 

"Not really," Dean said. John raised his eyebrows in question. Dean sat down heavily on the bed. "I"m kinda queasy and my head's killing me." Dean said quietly. "I'll be fine in the morning. I just need to sleep it off." 

"You sure?" John asked. Dean nodded as he shimmied out of his jeans. John sighed and went over to his bag. Dean was asleep when John turned back around. 

XXXXX

Dean woke up with a start. He'd been having a nightmare about leaving Sam at Bobby's. He looked around. Pale light was streaming under the curtains. John was still sleeping, snoring lightly. Dean got out of bed and went into the bathroom. His reflection stared back at him, eyes shadowed and face pale. He shivered and reached up to rub his eyes. The motion made him dizzy and he had to sit on the closed toilet lid. He shivered again, harder, and rested his head in his hands. He tried to take a deep breath, but his chest felt constricted. He jumped when John knocked on the door. 

"Dean? You okay?" John asked quietly. He'd woken up because of Dean's whimpers. 

"Yeah, just-" Dean coughed. It felt like his lungs were being shredded. 

John pushed open the door when he heard the cough. Dean was definitely coming down with something and it sounded bad. Dean was curled up around himself, coughing into his lap. John rested a hand on Dean's back and offered Dean a glass of water. Dean took a sip and then placed the glass on the counter. He didn't want John to see how badly his hands were shaking. 

"Yeah, just have a scratchy throat." Dean continued. John made a questioning face but didn't say anything. Dean was 12. He needed to start making his own calls on his health. Of course, John would step in before Dean did anything stupid, but he wanted to see how stubborn Dean really was. 

"I'll get you some aspirin and then we can head out." John said, leaving the bathroom. The med kit was on the small table between the beds. He grabbed the bottle of aspirin and brought a few pills to Dean. 

Dean took them and tried not to react to the pain spiking his throat as he swallowed. John patted his shoulder and left the bathroom to get dressed. Dean was left shivering and slightly dizzy. 

XXXXX

"Thank you Mrs. Lewis." John said, standing up from the woman's couch. Dean followed suit. 

"Does the FBI have a bring your kid to work day often? My son is training for the FBI. He'd be interested." Mrs. Lewis said, rambling about whatever crossed her mind. 

"Not too often. Once or twice a year." John answered, leading Dean to the foyer. 

"Well, that's fun." she said looking at Dean. Dean smiled and nodded, praying John would get them out of there. His stomach was flip-flopping and he could taste bile in the back of his throat. 

"I might stop in later in the week." John said opening the front door. Dean slipped out into the chilly air and took a breath as deep as he dared, avoiding a gag. 

"That's fine. I'll be here." Mrs. Lewis said. John smiled and turned on his heels, placing a heavy hand on Dean's shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked once Mrs. Lewis had closed the door. Dean nodded, feeling better now that he was out in the fresh air. 

"I'm gonna go back to the hotel to change and then we'll head to the house this guy's haunting. Once it gets dark we'll go to the cemetery to burn this son of a bitch." John said once they were in the Impala. Dean nodded and focused on the street ahead of them. 

When John unlocked the door to the room Dean bolted into the bathroom and knelt in front of the toilet. He kept burping and spitting bile, but couldn't throw up. He wished he would, just so he could make the nausea go away. His body wouldn't listen to him and kept his breakfast firmly in place. When he was sure he wouldn't vomit, he stood up and rinsed his mouth out under the tap. He trudged into the room and sat heavily on his bed. John was watching him, concern obvious in his eyes.

"I'm fine Dad, just a little carsick." Dean said before John could ask.

John laughed to himself. He knew Dean didn't get carsick. He'd spent most of his life in the car. "If you say so sport. I'm gonna change and then we can head out." Dean nodded. He swallowed thickly. He was still nauseous and he couldn't take a full breath without coughing. His chest ached and his head was pounding behind his eyes. He knew he shouldn't hunt if he was sick, but Dad had brought him instead of Sammy because Dad needed him. Dad needed him, and he wasn't about to let him down. He poured a few Tylenol into his hand and swallowed them with his leftover soda from lunch.

XXXXX

Dean woke up when he felt the Impala slow to a stop. He looked out his window and saw the rundown house that the spirit was haunting. He took a deep breath and pulled his coat closer around his small frame. The chill from the October air was sinking into his bones. 

"Ready tiger?" John asked. He could tell Dean wasn't right. Could tell that he was sick, maybe even running a low grade fever. He felt awful for making the poor kid hunt while he's shivering hard enough to ring church bells but the kid had to learn his lesson. Hunting while sick was nothing to play around with. John was prepared to take down the ghost on his own, so having Dean lacking wouldn't impact the hunt. That's why John brought him in the first place. He could tell Dean was coming down with something. He'd noticed the lack of appetite and the napping and the snuggles he'd been sharing with Sam. Dean needed to realize that John wouldn't always be there to tell him when he should back out of a hunt. 

"Always ready." Dean answered as he climbed out of the Impala. He followed John into the house, flashlight and sawed off shotgun in hand. 

The house was dark and falling in. Cobwebs covered every surface. Dean looked around and swallowed. This was the part he hated. His imagination always got the better of him, and most times whatever he thought up was 100 times scarier than what they were actually hunting. 

"Stay behind me until I tell you what to do. Watch your back." John instructed quietly. Dean nodded and kept close behind John. The floor creaked and groaned as they made their way into the living room. 

"Now, Mrs. Lewis said that this dude was really into keeping journals. All of them had been buried with him except for one. We need to find it." John said. Dean nodded, forgetting that John couldn't see him. 

"Yessir." Dean croaked. His throat was on fire.

"Here," John said, handing back a cough drop he'd brought with him. 

"Thanks." Dean whispered. John heard the crinkling of the cellophane.

"Your throat hurt?" John asked once they were standing in front of the floor to ceiling bookshelves in the living room. Dean was standing guard. 

"Yeah," Dean admitted. Coming up with a lie used too much energy.

John paused as he scanned over the shelves. Dean had admitted something was wrong. That was never a good sign. "What else hurts?" John asked. He hoped Dean would keep listing off symptoms and not shut down on him. 

"I'm fine Dad. It's probably just a cold." Dean said. His limbs felt like lead and the room was too dusty for him to breathe properly. At least, that's what he was telling himself. 

"Well, tell me what's wrong even if it is only a cold." John said. He glanced over his shoulder at his oldest boy. He could see Dean shivering, trying not to let his teeth chatter. 

Dean sighed. "I'm freezing. My head hurts. My chest is tight and I can't really get a full breath." Dean paused to swallow. He felt like such a baby for admitting he didn't feel well. "I'm queasy but I won't throw up. My arms and legs hurt." 

"Why didn't you tell me all this before we got here? While we were at the motel?" John asked. He didn't realize Dean had gotten the whole 9 yards when he caught this bug.

"It's not bad, honest. I'm fine." Dean said. He should've kept his mouth shut. "I already feel better than I did at Mrs. Lewis's house."

John knew that was a lie but he let it slide. "Okay then. Keep watch and shoot that bastard when he comes in here." John said. 

"Yessir." Dean said. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. All he really wanted to do was sleep.

"Aha! Got it! Now-" John was cut off by a salt round being fired from of Dean's gun. He spun around right as the ghost pounced on him. He felt his body rack with bone deep chills as he reached for the iron fire poker that was standing against the fireplace. He swung it through the ghost and it disappeared. 

"Dean, how many times do I have to tell you not to miss your target?" John growled. He looked over at where Dean was standing. Well, where Dean used to be standing. Now he was a heap on the floor. "Dean?" John asked. He went over to his son and placed a hand on his forehead. Dean was burning up. "Dean, wake up son." John shook him and he opened his eyes. "Let's get you back to the motel, okay?" 

Dean nodded. He wasn't sure why he was on the floor. The ghost had shown up out of nowhere and he though that he'd got him with the salt round. "Did I get him?" Dean asked as he leaned on John's arm for support. 

"No. He came after me and nearly knocked me over." John said.

"I thought I hit him, I swear." Dean said weakly.

"Well you didn't. And he could've hurt me Dean. That's why I brought you, to watch my back." 

"I was watching your back!" Dean said loudly. His voice cracked and he coughed. The nausea was back and rolling over him hard. 

John wanted to pick Dean up and cradle him all the way back to the Impala, but Dean needed to learn this lesson. "You can't watch someone's back if you aren't 100% Dean. And don't even start telling me that you're fine. You're burning up." John said. They were almost to the Impala. 

"I'm sorry." Dean croaked. 

"Don't be sorry. Just remember this for the next time you aren't feeling well and I bring you on a hunt." John said softly. "I'm not going to force you to go on a hunt if you're sick. It would be stupid. Just tell me and I'll-" John was interrupted by Dean vomiting all over the ground. John lowered him to his knees and rubbed his back while he threw up. 

"Easy tiger." John hushed. "You about done?" he asked when it looked like Dean was done puking. Dean nodded. He didn't move to get up, so John picked him up off the ground and carried him the rest of the way to the Impala. He set Dean down on his feet and left a sturdy hand on Dean's shoulder while he opened the passenger door. Dean sat down with a thud. "Get in so I can close the door."

"Wait," Dean whispered. He leaned on his knees and stared at the grass between his feet. His stomach was at war with him and he couldn't take the deep breaths he normally would to ride out the nausea. He dry heaved and spit onto the ground. 

John scooched down next to him and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He could feel Dean shivering. "Here," John said standing up. He wrapped the blanket from the backseat around Dean's shoulders and gave him a water. "Drink this and take it easy."

Dean unscrewed the cap with difficulty and took a tentative sip, like it might make him sick again. 

"When you're ready let's get you back to the motel." John said as he walked around to the drivers side. He started the car and cranked the heat, aiming the vents in Dean's direction. He slid the last journal onto the dashboard. 

"Okay," Dean said. "We can leave." He pulled his feet into the footwell of the Impala. He wasn't 100% sure he wouldn't vomit again, but it was starting to rain and he could hear thunder in the distance. 

John closed Dean's door and got into the drivers seat. He helped Dean spread the blanket over himself and then pulled away from the house. "Next time just tell me you're not feeling good, okay?" John said gently. 

"I didn't want to seem weak." Dean responded. He could feel tears stinging the corners of his eyes. 

"Dean, you're not weak. You just need to learn when to quit. Hunting when you're sick will never end well. The smart thing to do is to admit something's wrong. That way you won't hurt yourself or someone else." John said. 

Dean nodded and closed his eyes. The rain hitting the roof of the Impala was making his head pound and all of his muscles were sore. His stomach wasn't bothering him too much anymore but he wasn't going to eat anything any time soon. 

John opened his mouth to speak again, but realized Dean was sleeping. 

XXXXX

"Dean, wake up." John said once they were parked outside the motel. Dean peeled his eyes open but didn't have the energy to look around for danger. "Let's go inside." John said quietly. Dean nodded and pulled the blanket off himself. He shivered and couldn't keep his teeth from chattering. John noticed and reached out to palm Dean's forehead. His temperature was pretty high, that much he could tell without a thermometer. 

Dean climbed out of the Impala and into the October rain. John was already at the door unlocking it. Dean shuffled in and sat on the edge of his bed. 

"Take off those wet clothes." John instructed. Dean did, his goosebumps even more obvious when he took his tee shirt off. John dug around in Dean's bag until he found some sweats. He tossed them on Dean's bed and then started rummaging through the med kit for some more Tylenol and the thermometer. 

Once Dean was changed and tucked into bed, John stuck the thermometer in his mouth. Dean had his eyes shut and was focusing on taking shallow breaths through his nose. The nausea had come back full swing and he was determined not to get sick on his bed. 

John noticed Dean's breathing. "What's up tiger?" he asked. Dean opened his eyes, which were full of panic. John grabbed the trash can and held it in Dean's lap. Dean had closed his eyes again and his breathing hadn't changed but he was white knuckling the edge of the trash can. 

The thermometer beeped. Not even 4 seconds after John had taken the thermometer out of Dean's mouth, Dean started throwing up the water he'd been sipping on the way back from the haunted house. John rubbed Dean's back, slightly impressed at how Dean had kept himself under control until the thermometer was out of his mouth. 

"103.2. Not feeling so good, huh tiger?" John whispered. Dean leaned back against the headboard and shook his head. "Take some Tylenol. I'm gonna clean this out." John said, motioning to the trash can. He handed Dean a few pills and his water and brought the trash can to the bathroom. He rinsed it out in the tub and then brought it back out to Dean's bedside. John laid out some cough drops and a bag of pretzels before pulling his jacket on.

"Daddy, where are you going?" Dean asked. His voice sounded small and scared, more like Sam's than his own.

"I need to go burn the bones. I won't be gone long." John said, his heart breaking at the sight of Dean. 

"O-okay." Dean whimpered. John sat on the edge of Dean's bed. 

"I've gotta get rid of this guy before he hurts someone else. You'll be fine right here. I left you more cough drops and some pretzels. I'll be back before you need your next dose of Tylenol. Just go to sleep, okay? I'll be back when you wake up." 

"Okay." Dean said. He burrowed down under the covers. "Dad?" Dean asked as John reached for the doorknob. John turned to look at Dean. "Can I have another blanket?" John nodded, pulling the comforter off his bed and laying it over Dean. He kissed Dean on the forehead and left the room. 

Dean felt tears running down his cheeks as John left. He heard the Impala start and roar away. He'd never felt so alone. 

XXXXX

Dean shivered and pulled the blankets closer around his body. He'd been keeping track of the time. It'd been 4 hours since John left, and bone burning hardly ever took that long. Dean whimpered and rolled onto his stomach. What should he do? There was a phone across the room he could call Bobby with, but that was a last resort. 

Before he could think of anyone else to call he heard the Impala rumble up outside. Dean rolled over and sat up. He leaned against the headboard and waited for John to come in. He shivered and pulled the blankets up higher. The door opened and Dean saw John poke his head in. 

"Dean? Why are you still awake?" John asked, setting his bag on the floor. He was soaked to the skin from the rain that was still falling from the sky.

"I couldn't sleep." Dean croaked.

"Did you try?" John asked. Dean felt his cheeks flush. 

"I wanted to wait up for you. But I had my eyes closed most of the time." 

"Well, I'm here now so close them again. And go to sleep this time. You need to rest." John said. He peeled off his coat and hung it on the back of a chair. "You all set in the bathroom for a little while? I'm gonna take a shower." 

Dean nodded and slid under the blankets.

XXXXX

While John was in the shower he made a list of things Dean could've come down with. Common cold, but he seemed worse than just a cold. The flu matched his symptoms almost perfectly except for the tightness in his chest. Pneumonia was always something to worry about, especially with Dean. John sighed. Pneumonia would knock Dean out for awhile. Poor kid would have to go to the doctor for meds. John only carried around a few prescription painkillers and antibiotics in the med kit. 

Dean was still awake when John came out of the bathroom. "Daddy?" Dean asked. John winced, noting how Dean was calling him Daddy and not Dad. He must be feeling pretty rough for that.

"What is it buddy?" John asked, sitting on his bed facing Dean.

"Can I sleep with you?" Dean asked. He knew that only babies slept with their parents, but he couldn't get warm.

"Sure you can." John answered. "Take some Tylenol and drink some water first." John handed him a few pills and a water. Dean swallowed them and John noticed the way he winced as he swallowed. "Do you need to pee?" John asked. Dean shook his head. That made John worry. It had been hours since Dean last used the bathroom. "That means you're dehydrated. Drink a few glasses of water, okay? Then we can go to bed." 

Dean took the glass of water John was holding out for him and sipped at it. He wasn't thirsty and it was just making him nauseous. "I'm not really thirsty." Dean said after half the glass. 

"At least finish the glass. That'll be good enough for tonight." John said. He didn't want to push it and make Dean throw up. That would be taking a big step in the wrong direction. 

Dean sipped until the rest of the water was gone and then handed the glass to John. 

"Okay, scoot over. I'm getting in." John said. Dean moved over in the bed and shivered when John lifted up the covers. "Still cold?" John asked, noticing how Dean slid into his side as soon as he was settled. 

"Can't get warm." Dean whispered. John wrapped an arm around Dean's shoulders and enveloped him in a hug. His skin was clammy. "Let's fix that. G'night tiger."

"Night Dad." Dean answered. 

XXXXX

"Dean?" John mumbled. He'd woken up to coughing and the bed shaking as Dean scrambled out of it. John got up and went to the bathroom door. It was partially open and he could hear Dean gagging. "You okay tiger?" John asked, scooching down next to Dean. 

"Drank too much water." Dean responded between retches. 

"You need to rehydrate." John said, feeling Dean's forehead. His fever was back up. 

When Dean was finished John dragged him back to bed. He gave him more Tylenol and got him to drink as much water as he could handle. Then he settled in next to him. 

"The next time we wake up we'll pack and head back to Uncle Bobby's, okay?" John whispered.

"Okay." Dean answered. He snuggled into John's side and let the rhythm of John's breathing lull him to sleep. 

XXXXX

"De? Are you okay?" Sam asked, peering at Dean through the open door of the Impala.

"Just don't feel good Sammy." Dean answered. He sat up from where he was lying on the back seat and pulled the blanket off him. 

Sam grabbed Dean's hand as they walked into Bobby's house.

"Hey kiddo. How was the hunt?" Bobby asked. He paused when he saw Dean. "You sick boy?"

Dean nodded and made his way to the couch. Sam covered him in a blanket and then snuggled into the nest Dean's legs made. 

Bobby went to find John. "What's he come down with?" he asked as soon as he found John. 

"Either the flu or pneumonia. Not sure which. I'm gonna wait another day and then bring him to the doctor if he's not improving." John answered. 

"He looks like death warmed over." 

"You shoulda seen him last night. Made me sleep with him, calling me Daddy instead of Dad, crying. He's got it rough, whatever it is." John said. He finished loading the washing machine and then followed Bobby to the living room. 

Sam and Dean were curled up with each other and it melted John's heart. "He looks more relaxed now than he did the whole time he was with me." John noted.

"Course he does. He's got Sammy now." Bobby said.


End file.
